The Death of a General
by MurdocsAngel
Summary: Complete Jack’s dead and another civilian is set to take over the SGC. Oddly enough he looks like a younger version of the late general…xover with MacGyver.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Stargate: SG-1 and MacGyver are properties of others, and not me.  
  
Summary: Jack's dead and another civilian is set to take over the SGC. Oddly enough he looks like a younger version of the late general…x-over with MacGyver.  
  
Spoilers: If you haven't seen any of Season eight, be warned  
Season: Eight  
Pairing: Sam/Jack (eventually)  
  
A/N: Yes, this has been done before, many times. However I feel that I have a new twist on the MacGyver is Jack theory. You'll have to read to find out though.  
On another note, this story has not been beta read. If you'd be interested in doing so, tell me in your review (and leave an e-mail address) or send me an e-mail at (don't ask…you probably don't want to know).  
  


****The Death of a General**  
  
Prologue

General Jack O'Neill sighed as he pulled up into his driveway. His new job was, in a lot of ways, more exhausting than anything he'd had to deal with as a colonel. Sure, he'd had to fight off aliens with a tendency towards being megalomaniacs, robotic bugs that could replicate themselves and other, stranger things than most science fiction writers could probably even think up. However, having to deal with the day-to-day operation of a top-secret military base was so mentally exhausting, he sometimes wondered at his sanity for accepting the position. 

He sat in the vehicle with the engine off for a few moments, contemplating the day's events before sliding out of the truck. Nothing particularly exciting had happened all week long, so there had been nothing to keep his attention away from the various memos, requests, and reports he was supposed to go through. To sum it all up, he was bored out of his mind. 

As he walked past the wooden deck of his porch, he noticed a slight movement of the blinds. It wasn't much, but with everything he had been through for the past eight years he wasn't about to take any chances. He pulled his side-arm from its holster at his hip, then carefully unlocked the door and opened it. 

Inside, sitting on his couch, he found the last person on the planet that he wanted to see at that moment. At the same time he was almost relieved. One the one hand, he was angry at them for choosing now to end it all, now when the very future of the human race on Earth rested in his hands—okay so he was exaggerating a little. On the other, he was glad because he had had to spend the last nine years trying to convince everyone he was something he wasn't; had been lying to his friends. It was time for it to be over. 

"Hello, Steve," Jack said tonelessly, "Nice weather we're having isn't it?" 

Steve didn't say anything, just kept staring at him, his dark eyes showing the horrors he'd been through in his long life. Jack fidgeted, uncomfortable with the stare and wanting to hear his own conclusions said aloud, to get it over with as soon as possible so that he could go back to having a normal life. As normal as his life usually was, anyway. 

When Steve still refused to say anything, Jack made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. "So," he asked casually, "Where's Jack?" 

Steve motioned for Jack to sit down. "We need to talk, you and I." 

Searching Steve's features for some clue as to what was going through the older man's mind, Jack felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. After all this time, this particular scenario was not one he'd expected. 

**xxx-xxx**

Daniel Jackson rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had been up all night translating a text they had found the week before on PX6-291 and was still no further in gaining an insight as to its meaning. It wasn't getting the words he was having a problem with, but the context. He took a drink out of the coffee mug sitting to his right and made a face. It was cold. 

The doorbell chose that moment to ring. With a sigh, Daniel pushed himself away from his desk and stumbled on legs that hadn't been used in over twelve hours to the door. He opened it to see Samantha Carter and Teal'c standing on the threshold. Sam's eyes were blood-shot and watery, as if she had just been crying and was getting ready to do so some more. Teal'c's expression was harder to read, but Daniel was about seventy percent sure he was upset about something. 

"Hey guys," Daniel greeted, uncertainly, "What's up?" 

The only response he got was Sam pulling him into a tight hug that threatened to suffocate him and a muffled sob. Daniel hesitatingly patted her on the back while wondering what the hell was going on. He looked at Teal'c in silent supplication, but the Jaffa was no more forthcoming than Sam had been. 

After what seemed like an interminably long time, Sam finally released her stranglehold and looked up. Sniffing a few times, she wiped her nose with the back of her hand and noisily cleared her throat. Then she looked back at Teal'c who nodded solemnly. 

"Everyone's tried to call you," Sam explained, "But you wouldn't answer your phone." 

Daniel shrugged lightly. "I had the ringer turned off, so Jack wouldn't interrupt me. He's been bored for the past week, and his favorite pastime when he's like that is to bug the hell out of me. What's the matter?" Daniel asked, alarmed because Sam had suddenly started sobbing again. 

"O'Neill will not annoy you further, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c murmured, his usually impassive face shrouded in sorrow. 

Daniel frowned, trying to understand the implications behind those words, but his mind refused to accept it. Knowing full well he was probably going to look like an idiot for asking, he did anyway. "What do you mean?" 

"He's dead, Daniel!" Sam yelled, ferocious in her intensity, "He ran his stupid truck off a stupid bridge in the rain last night and he's dead!" Her voice grew quieter as she visibly calmed herself. "The investigation is nowhere near complete, but the officers who were first on the scene have made up their minds that it was simply an accident." 

Daniel shook his head, not wanting to believe it, not able to believe it. Jack, all of them, had been through so much together in the past eight years. It was simply impossible that after all the times Jack had nearly been killed and come out with flying colors he should die like that. 

"An accident?" Daniel asked finally. 

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed. 

"And," Daniel cleared his throat to try and make the lump he felt there go away, "Do you agree with that conclusion?" 

There was a long silence that followed, as if the two of them hadn't really given the matter much thought and were now forced to do so. Daniel let them have all the time they needed, because he needed to come to terms with it himself. 

"I don't know," Sam admitted, "My gut instinct is to say 'No! The General would never allow something as stupid as that to happen!' On the other hand, I realize that with all the luck he's had over the past eight years, it had to run out sometime. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and we all know his driving skills first hand." 

"I too have come to the same conclusion as Colonel Carter," Teal'c seconded. 

Daniel nodded, feeling detached, as though he were watching someone else learn that their best friend had died. As if he were on the outside looking in. In some corner of his brain he knew that this wasn't natural, but for the moment, it was the only thing that was keeping him from breaking down and railing against Jack, against Sam and Teal'c, against himself for not leaving his phone on. 

"Who identified the body?" he asked, his tone casual. 

"I did," Sam answered, the pain she was feeling evident. 

"Then we know that he's really dead," Daniel remarked. And then he was in Sam's arms bawling his head off. 

**xxx-xxx**

MacGyver sighed as he stepped into his houseboat after nine long months. It wasn't the longest he'd been away, but it was the first time he'd ever wished he were somewhere else. He pulled off the dark suit jacket and matching tie and threw them on the table in a haphazard manner. 

He hated funerals, and this one had been the worst. He had had to stay out of sight, knowing his presence might have caused quite a few questions that he hadn't been—and still wasn't-- capable of answering. So, between dodging people who had known the deceased well and the deep-seated feeling of guilt he doubted would ever go away, he wasn't in a very good mood. 

"Damn it, Uncle Jack," he muttered to no one in particular, "Why'd you have to go and die?" He slammed his fist down onto the table top, reveling in the pain that swept up through his knuckles. "You always did like making my life a living hell, didn't you?" 

He fell back onto the sofa and turned the television on. Nothing had changed since he'd last been there, which meant that no one had come by. Thankfully. There was no way he could deal with Jack Dalton, Penny or even Pete with his current mindset. They'd probably end up never talking to him again at the worst. Which he might not mind in the case of the first two. 

He turned his attention from himself to the TV. An episode of the Simpsons was on. He gave a short, strangled laugh and pushed 'play' on the remote. Immediately the yellow-skinned family was replaced by the black and white adventures of The Lone Ranger. 

Life sucked sometimes.

* * *

Right, so I know there's a lot to explain, but it will be explained. Eventually. 


	2. One

**Chapter One**

Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter absently tossed her keys onto the small file cabinet next to the door in her lab then sat down and opened her laptop, her mind not really on what she was doing. It replayed the argument she'd had with Pete and then Mark earlier that day over and over again. 

_"Sam, you've gotta quit beating yourself up over this," Pete said, "It wasn't your fault already and it's been two months since the accident." _

"What do you know about it?" Sam snarled, "He was the best commanding officer I've ever had, and if I had gone over like he'd asked…" 

"You wouldn't have gone out with me that night," Pete finished flatly, "I think I see where this is going. I should have known when I saw the way you looked at him that time. Goodbye. You and the dead guy deserve each other." He walked off, the anger and pain visible on his face. 

The guilt and confusion she felt at that moment threatened to overwhelm her, but she stopped herself from calling him back. If that's the way he wanted to act, then fine, let him. He'd never understand the relationship she had shared with the general. How could he when she didn't understand it herself? 

The phone rang when she got back to her house and she picked it up. It was Mark. 

"Damn it Sammy!" was the first thing out of her brother's mouth, "You had a good thing going and you had to screw it up. What, you want to end up like Dad?" 

"Why hello Mark, I'm fine thanks, how are you?" Sam retorted sarcastically. 

"You're going to do it, aren't you? You're gonna throw your life away for the Air Force," Mark went on, as if she hadn't spoken, "And you're using your commanding officer as an excuse to keep from living your life." 

That hit too close to the conclusion she had come to onboard the Prometheus_ for comfort. This, coupled with all the hurt, anger and confusion she had been refusing to deal with over the past two months, forced her to the boiling point, and she lashed out. _

"What the hell do you care, Mark! Ever since Mom died, all I've ever heard from you were insults and curses towards Dad and the military! That's all you care about, is the fact that Mom got taken from You! That Dad wasn't spending time with You! Your little attempts at matchmaking so I wouldn't join the Air Force! All you've ever been is a selfish son of a bitch!" 

Sam winced as she recalled slamming the phone down, storming out to her car and ramming her foot into the accelerator, driving off as fast as she could. When she had found herself at the spot where the accident had occurred, she had—for about the umpteenth time—broken down into sobs. When she had sufficiently recovered, she had driven to the complex, hoping some research would take her mind off things. 

It wasn't working very well so far. 

The lab phone rang and she picked it up, grateful for the distraction. "Carter here." 

"Colonel," came Major Paul Davis' voice over the line, "What are you doing here so late?" 

"Oh you know," she answered lightly, "I just wanted to see if I could finish up on some research." 

"I see." And Sam knew that Davis very probably did see. He had grieved just as hard as anyone at the news of Jack O'Neill's death. "Well, I'm heading home now. If you need anything…." 

In spite of herself, Sam smiled. Everyone at the SGC was part of a family. "I know. I'll probably get a hold of Daniel, if that happens." 

She could hear the answering grin in his voice as he responded with, "Of course. Oh yes, remember that the new commander will be arriving early tomorrow morning. Try not to work too late so you can give him a good impression." 

Sam groaned as she hung up the phone. With everything that had happened that day, she had totally forgotten about the impending change of leadership Stargate Command was about to go through once again. How many times would they all have to deal with that kind of upheaval? It was hard to concentrate on keeping the planet safe when you weren't sure whether your own life was completely in order. 

Still, she had high hopes for this particular man who happened to be an idol of hers. Doctor Angus MacGyver. She had read all his papers on thermonuclear dynamics and quantum physics as well as some of his archaeological exploits. If anyone were to be naturally well suited to life at the SGC, he would be with his multiple talents. The only problem she could foresee was his strong viewpoint concerning gun control. 

Feeling slightly better, Sam opened her laptop and perused over her latest entry of research for the alien device they'd found on an abandoned planet. The readings she'd taken so far indicated a high electro-magnetic impulse. She hadn't been able to discern an obvious power source, but that didn't mean anything. It could be a power source itself. Just as she had concluded the day before, she would need Daniel's translation before she could come to any conclusions. 

**xxx-xxx**

Daniel muttered to himself and hit his lap-top as the screen fizzled out. Great, now he'd have redo everything he'd accomplished in the past hour. He really needed to start saving his work every five minutes instead of just when he happened realize it needed doing. Habits had to be formed anyway, might as well make it a good one that benefited himself. 

So far he had come no where near translating the alien text SG-7 had found next to some kind of weird looking oblong object. The circumstances in finding it were strange also; it had been the only advanced piece of technology found among the primitive huts of a long-abandoned planet. It had taken the team three weeks to get clearance to bring it back to the SGC—which wasn't so surprising considering everything that had gone wrong in the past eight years—and when they did, Sam hadn't been able to determine what it did any more than Lieutenant Boyd—SG-7's physicist. 

Now it was up to Daniel to save the day once more with his super-linguist skills. The archaeologist sighed, not feeling up to the task. Somehow, with Jack gone and the knowledge that he definitely wouldn't be coming back, nothing seemed to really matter like it once did. 

Sure, they still had to protect Earth from the Goa'uld—Ba'al had nearly succeeded in destroying the Alpha site, which once again had to be relocated—but in the last two months Daniel had begun to wonder what the point of it all was. If a man like Jack O'Neill could die in an automobile accident, then who cared if the planet was safe? Everyone was just going to die anyway. 

And then Daniel would remember that freedom had its price, and it was better to die free than to die knowing one was a slave. Wasn't that what Teal'c and Bra'tac always said? Jack had died knowing he was a hero. He had also probably cursed the fates at the same time for letting him die in such an anticlimactic way. 

Daniel grinned. Sure it was morbid, but it gave him some small satisfaction in believing that Jack had gone out fighting to the last. Even if there hadn't been time for the man to have even realized what was going to happen before he'd died. 

"Hey, Daniel," Paul Davis said walking into the lab, "I'm heading out, you coming with?" 

"Yeah," Daniel agreed, "I think need a new perspective. I've been going at this translation for nearly forty-eight hours straight. Some time away will hopefully let me clear my head at any rate." 

The major nodded and waited as Daniel put his notes away. Everything else he left out, knowing that if someone wanted the information that badly, they'd already have it. 

"So, you excited about meeting Doctor MacGyver?" Paul asked as they entered the elevator that would take them aboveground. 

Daniel frowned slightly. "Actually, I've forgotten all about it. I thought you were going to stay in charge." 

"No," Paul said in amusement, "That's what you wanted and kept trying to push for. Despite firm negatives. Besides, even though I'm from the Pentagon, it's only a matter of time before someone gets defensive about being told what to do from a lower ranking officer." 

"Sam would never…" 

"I'm not talking about Sam and you know it." 

Daniel nodded in defeat, then challenged, "And you don't think they'll resent a civilian?" 

"Of course they will, but I've heard a lot of good things about MacGyver," Paul retorted, "When General Hammond was being replaced it was a toss up between Dr. Weir and MacGyver. Dr. Weir won by default because no one knew how to reach MacGyver." 

"Kinda says a lot about Dr. Weir," Daniel muttered, indignant on his friend's behalf. 

"No," Paul rebutted, "It says a lot about MacGyver. Come on Daniel, surely you remember your first time under the eyes of the military?" 

Daniel sighed, giving up. He'd make an honest effort to get along with the new commander, because it was in his personality to do so. "Still," he muttered, "I wasn't in charge." 

**xxx-xxx**

MacGyver questioned his sanity for the thousandth time in two days. When the President had first requested an audience with him, he had been scared spit less, however, he had been relieved to find out that his secret was still safe. That must have been the reason for his readily accepting the position at the SGC. It could be the only explanation for such a boneheaded move. 

_No,_ he told himself, _It's because I wanted to go back. No matter how crazy that makes me._

Despite the various missions—and missions gone horribly wrong thanks to one Jack Dalton—Pete had sent him on in the past two months, it paled significantly next to going off-world, fighting the Goa'uld, and yes, even the paper-work. So, when Henry Hayes had asked him point blank—after the off-setting moments where he'd had to explain about his Uncle Jack—if he wanted to take charge of Stargate Command, he'd said yes. 

Needless to say, Pete hadn't been very happy about this arrangement. 

_"MacGyver, you just got back…" _

"I know Pete, but this time I'm not going on an extended vacation," MacGyver told his friend, "I've accepted a position with NORAD." 

Pete sighed sadly, then brightened. "Well, then, you'll be able to keep in touch regularly at any rate." 

"That's the spirit Pete, look on the bright side," Mac said, grinning at the older man. 

"I wasn't looking on the bright side, Mac," Pete deadpanned, "I was ordering you." 

MacGyver threw up a mock salute, still grinning. "Yessir, Mister Thornton sir." 

As Mac threw his own clothes and mementos into his two well-worn suitcases, he couldn't help feeling happy for some reason. Maybe because he was going to get to do something he had come to love in the past eight years as himself instead of pretending to be someone else. Despite all his fears and questions of his sanity, he was looking forward to the next day.

* * *

**Thanks go out to these reviewers: **

Dunk: I may not write from Teal'c's point of view, just because he's such a hard character to get into. He seems so simple, and yet he's very complex. 

**Makura Koneko:** Hehe…lucky me…shifty eyes Who says Jack's really dead? 

**Erin:** All will be explained. Maybe not soon, but it will be explained. 

**Erikstrulove:** I love your pen-name Uh…you're probably going to be more confused after this chapter, and for that I apologize. Read my answer to Erin's review. 

**Horsefly: ** Well, your demands shall be met 


	3. Two

**Thanks so much to all my wonderful reviewers. I never expected to get such a positive response. That being said, I wish to thank my dear friend Mary Christmas for encouraging me to go ahead with this fic and post it.  
  
Oh yes, a review has made me realize that I forgot to mention something in the first chapter Author's Note. MacGyver's timeline has been moved up by about a decade. There are also some things that happened in the series that never happened in my little AU (ie Sam Malloy) More information on this will be revealed as the story goes on.  
  
Chapter Two**

MacGyver stepped, with no little trepidation, onto the elevator that would take him into the bowels of the Cheyenne Mountain Complex . This was worse than six months ago, when he'd accepted his promotion to general. Then, he'd just been worried that he would screw everything up. Now, he had to worry about screwing everything up _and_ about somebody discovering his little--well not so little, but it made him feel better thinking of it in those terms--ruse. 

He smiled genially at the young lieutenant operating the elevator, but the kid was obviously a well-trained SF and, thankfully, not anyone he'd met. Probably just got his first duty-shift at the SGC and didn't have much security clearance beyond the elevator. MacGyver gave a light shrug and settled back to wait. Normally, he'd be chatting the guy up, but his nervousness kept him from speaking. He was afraid he'd say something incriminating. 

_Oh, yeah, Mac,_ he thought wryly, _You're afraid of saying something this Lieutenant,_ Mac surreptitiously checked the nametag before continuing his self-recrimination, _Billings can use to identify you with General Jack O'Neill, when he's probably never even heard of the guy. What're you going to do when you come face to face with SG-1? Blink at them?_. 

He snorted and shook his head. Really, if he was going to pull this off, he was going to have to get a hold of himself. Going around with 'guilt' written in big black letters all over his face was not the best way to inspire confidence in his abilities as a leader. At least he already knew most of the personnel, that would certainly help him out. People liked to be known--by both their names and skills. 

The length of the ride down the elevator shaft gave him time to school his features into his normal--for MacGyver--mask of geniality. It also served his imagination quite well in that it let him think of the many ways his former team mates would react to him. He knew he looked remarkably like his uncle--which was the whole reason he had gone through nine, long, miserable--and yet inspiring--years in a life that wasn't his own. Okay, so they weren't so miserable. He'd had fun. Met a few new friends. Saw the universe. 

By the time the elevator reached the twenty-eighth floor, MacGyver was grinning. He couldn't help it. While masquerades and intrigue weren't usually his forte, he'd had eight years to perfect it--and yes--to enjoy it. Now, he wasn't really masquerading; he was living his own life and merely had to be careful not to let on that he'd been a man the people of the SGC had known well. 

As he stepped off the lift, a pair of SF's snapped to attention and then flanked him. The one on the right asked him for identification and he happily provided it. 

"Don't worry," he quipped, "I don't even carry a gun." The SF, predictably, didn't react except to point in the direction Mac was supposed to go. 

MacGyver smiled politely and took his leave. This was going to be hard to get used to. As a general--and even before as a colonel--he had commanded respect from everyone on base. As a civilian, that respect was going to have to be earned and it probably wasn't going to happen in a day or even a week. Which was a good thing. That whole gung ho military guy routine could get addictive after a while. As himself, he could look at the work the SGC did more objectively. 

He walked a little ways further, noticing that another pair of SF's was following him discretely. He shook his head and entered the briefing room. Major Paul Davis sat at the table, his back to the entrance, looking out the glass window that overlooked the Gate Room. Mac took a deep breath before announcing his presence. Paul would be the first person who had known Jack O'Neill fairly well that he'd met. If all went well, he could probably expect the others to go smoothly. 

"Major Davis?" Mac asked softly. 

Davis turned his attention to him, a frown furrowing his brow. Then he did a double-take and a remarkable impression of a fish; Mac had to stifle an amused grin and struggled to maintain a slightly confused yet amiable expression. Davis gathered his wits with impressive alacrity and stood up, smiling. He walked around the table and held out his hand. 

"That's right. You must be Doctor MacGyver. It's an honor to meet you." 

MacGyver relaxed ever so slightly and grinned in real pleasure. He was in his element now. Grabbing the man's hand in a firm shake he remarked, "Just MacGyver if you please. I never did hold much stock in titles or formalities. My Grandpa Harry always said 'A measure of a man is not told by his title, but by his actions'." 

Davis nodded politely, then gestured towards the office off to one side of the briefing room. "If you don't mind, I'll show you where you're going to be spending a lot of your time at, Doc...uh...MacGyver." 

MacGyver grimmaced. "Is that a hint, Major?" 

"Paul," Davis corrected, "Or Davis. And yes, it is a hint. There is a lot of paper work involved in running the SGC and it must be maintained in order to ensure that operations run smoothly." 

"Ah," Mac commented, "Well, I figured I'd be a desk jockey by signing up. Too late to back out now, huh?" 

"Yes." 

"Right, so before we get started on all this 'procedure' stuff, I'd like to go and meet everyone on staff and all the SG teams that are currently on base." 

Paul nodded, looking moderately surprised. "You seem quite well informed, MacGyver." 

"Well," Mac drawled, "I take my responsibilities seriously. No half-assed stuff from me." 

"Right. The tour of the base wasn't scheduled until after you'd gone over the personnel files, but I assume you've already done so?" 

MacGyver couldn't help but feel a little guilty as he nodded his acquiescence. He had read those files--about two months ago. Though, he was happy to admit, he had scanned them briefly just in case there were any important changes. "So, where do we start first?" 

Paul grinned at him. "The Gate Room." 

"By the way," Mac tossed out, "In case you were wondering, Jack O'Neill was my uncle." 

"I know," Davis admitted, "The President warned me just before you arrived. I didn't think there'd be such a resemblance though." 

"I take it that means everyone else here is going to be shocked?" 

"Actually," Paul said hesitatingly, "That's an understatement." 

"Great." 

**xxx-xxx**

"Sorry, sir," she murmured to the general, "I just needed to..." Then she shook herself mentally and blinked so that her eyes would focus some more. Unfortunately, they still told her that someone was standing in front of her that looked like a younger version of Jack O'Neill. For a minute she wondered if the Asgard were playing a cruel trick on her, but Davis dispelled that notion. 

"Uh, Colonel Samantha Carter? This is MacGyver," Davis said, "General O'Neill was his uncle." 

Sam brushed a hand through her hair and groaned inwardly. What a way to make a first impression on her idol. It wasn't fair really, especially the fact that he looked so much like the man she had fallen in love with. He even had those big, brown puppy dog eyes that could hold so many emotions--the topmost of which was concern for her well-being. The Fates must be conspiring against her--she must be meant to go insane. 

As she looked at MacGyver, she wondered how she could have mistaken him for O'Neill. For one thing, he was much too young--by about twenty years--and the scare that had bisected the general's left eyebrow was conspicuously absent. There were other details that were slightly off as well. She really should have listened to Paul and gone to bed the night before. At least then she could have awakened in her own room and not embarrassed herself. 

"I'm sorry, Doctor," She apoligized, "I was up all night working on..." 

"It's just MacGyver," MacGyver said with a gentle smile, "And I've pulled a few all nighters myself. One time I fell asleep in the middle of an altercation--but I'm sure you don't want to hear about that." 

Sam couldn't help but smile back, even as an ache in heart that she had refused to acknowledge surfaced with renewed intensity. Still embarrassed at her lack of protocol, she shrugged lightly. "I'm sure it's a fascinating story, si...MacGyver," she murmured, "I have to say, it's definitely an honor to meet you. I've read all your papers." She stopped, blushing, then shrugged again. "Now I feel like a school-girl who gets to meet her idol in person." 

A strange expression flickered across MacGyver's face, but it was gone so fast Sam couldn't decipher what it was. The smile was still in place however, so she didn't think more on it. 

"Well, Colonel," MacGyver said in a conspiratal tone, "I've read all the work you've done--that was non-classified--and since joining the SGC have read what I could of that." Again, the strange expression crossed his face. "I look forward to discussing your theories at length sometime." 

"That sounds good, MacGyver," Sam said warmly, "In fact, now that you're here, maybe you can help me figure out what this thing is and does." She pointed at the dreaded cylinder that had become almost a bane to her. 

"Well," MacGyver said, "I'd be happy to. But I think you can figure it out yourself. I mean, you haven't had me around for the past eight years and have done perfectly fine. Better probably. I have a tendancy to...attract trouble sometimes." 

Sam smiled in response to the praise. If she could get over the fact that he could be the late general's duplicate, she could get used to working with him. What, "if"? She _would_ get over it. She had had nearly six years practice at burying her emotions concerning Jack O'Neill, and she wasn't about to start letting him get to her now that he was dead. 

She waited until he and Davis had left before picking up her notes and perusing them for something she may have missed. MacGyver was right. She was damn good at her job, and she would continue to be, for the sake of the SGC, for the sake of the planet, and for her own self. She couldn't allow herself any self-doubt, not now. **

xxx-xxx

**

Daniel ignored the temptation to look at the alien text one more time. He already knew what he'd find. A familiar, yet totally different language than one he'd ever encountered before. It was maddening to say the least. Kinda like having a name or definintion on the tip of your tongue, but not being able to give it voice. 

Instead, he worked on his laptop, updating old files and re-organizing. Maybe he'd come across something that would jog his memory. At the very least, he would be doing something that had needed doing for some time, so he didn't feel too bad about what looked like it would amount to a monumental waste of time and effort. And without Jack around to bug him, he might even finish it. 

He sat stunned as soon as the thought crossed his mind. He knew he was still thinking in terms that Jack was still alive--just on an extended vacation--and he normally tried to take steps to keep from doing that. However, as usual, his brain refused to adhere to his strict commands and tripped him up from time to time. He supposed it was because he hadn't actually seen Jack die, hadn't actually seen the body like Sam had. He could still delude himself with wishful thinking. 

He pushed himself away from the desk in disgust and poured a anothe cup of coffee. Surprisingly, he hadn't drank as much as he usually did, and he had had only a little over two hours sleep the night before. He breathed in the soothing vapors of the java and cupped his hands around the warm cup. He hadn't even been aware of the fact that he was cold. 

"Okay, Daniel," he muttered to himself, "Maybe now would be a good time to take a vacation. Preferably somewhere nice and normal--and as far away from the SGC as possible. Like Hawaii. I've heard its nice this time of year." 

"Or better yet," came a familiar sardonic voice, "Why not off-world? Another planet's about as far as you can get." 

_Great,_ Daniel thought, _Now I'm hearing his voice arguing with me._

"Doctor Jackson," Paul asked, slightly concerned. 

Daniel looked up at the man in question and then dropped his coffee mug to the ground. It shattered upon impact, splashing himself with scalding hot coffee, but Daniel was momentarily impervious to the pain. There, in front of him was a younger replica of Jack O'Neill. Hoping against hope that his brain hadn't finally just given up on him, he began spluttering. 

"You...he...there's really someone there, right Paul? I mean, you see him too?" 

The man who looked like Jack winced and an expression of guilt crossed his face. "Yes," he said, "I'm really here. My name is MacGyver, Jack was my uncle. We really need to get a memo out, Paul. This could get tiresome having to explain to everyone." 

Paul nodded thoughtfully. "I probably should have called SG-1 at the very least when I got the news," he said apologetically. 

Daniel watched the interchange, still confused. "MacGyver?" He asked. 

Paul grinned. "You remember, Daniel. The new commander of this base?" 

Daniel stared at the major silently for a moment, before his stunned brain recalled the conversation from the night before. He flushed slightly, but then shrugged. "Right. Well. You look a whole hell of a lot like your uncle. Are you sure you're not really Jack? A clone? Or maybe the Asgard rescued you and you don't want the NID to know?" A stupid question, but Daniel felt he had to ask it. 

There was silence for a moment, and then MacGyver answered quietly, "No, the Asgard have nothing to do with my being here, and I am not a clone." 

Daniel digested this response and then nodded. "Well, it was worth a shot. Just more wishful thinking I suppose." 

MacGyver and Paul both nodded. Daniel smiled tightly. "I really need to get cracking on this translation..." 

The two men took the hint and left him to his own devices. Daniel clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut. Damn it! Why couldn't he just get over Jack's death? Everything would be so much simpler then. Letting out a short, mirthless laugh, Daniel couldn't help but see the irony. Even in death, dealing with Jack was far from simple. **

xxx-xxx

**

Teal'c moved gracefully into the new commander's office to await its occupant's arrival. He had not been present during Doctor MacGyver's tour and so was unable to meet him at that time. He stood in front of the desk and gazed down at the mess that covered its surface. This was reminiscent of O'Neill's habits, and Teal'c felt a tightening of his throat muscles. O'Neill had been as a brother to him, and the means of his death still struck the Jaffa as odd. 

He did not believe that anyone would ever be able to replace O'Neill, either in command or in friendship, but he would make the effort to gain this new leader's trust if the man warranted such. Teal'c was not one to give his own trust lightly; it had been a strange thing that day in Apophis' keep on Chulak when he had turned his back forever on the Goa'uld for a man he had not even known. He had never regreted that decision once. 

Only his loyalty to Daniel Jackson and Samantha Carter kept him on Earth at this time. His aid was better served with the Tau'ri, he felt, but if not for those two, he would have returned to lead the rebel Jaffa as soon as he had been certain of O'Neill's death. He permitted himself a small smile. O'Neill would have approved, of that he was certain. 

Before this train of thought could continue much further, the new commander walked in. Teal'c was taken aback by his resemblance to O'Neill and for a brief moment allowed himself to believe that it could be. 

"You resemble O'Neill greatly, Doctor MacGyver," He told the man. 

Doctor MacGyver appeared off balance, but quickly regained his footing. "He was my uncle...man am I getting tired of explaining that. Apparently, you never got the memo." 

Teal'c raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, preferring to let the other man speak first. He wanted to get as accurate an appraisal as he could. 

"You must be Teal'c. And uh, you can just call me MacGyver...I don't like titles." 

Teal'c inclined his head, suddenly feeling that he could trust this man, just as he had eight years ago with O'Neill. This bothered Teal'c only slightly. Perhaps it was simply something that O'Neill's family had in common. 

"Right, so T, was there anything you wanted to tell me?" 

Teal'c glanced at him, startled, but kept his expression neutral. MacGyver's expression revealed almost as little, but the Jaffa thought he saw a flicker of something, and a telling flush to his cheeks. There was more going on her than met the eye, but he would let it go. For now. 

"Uh..." MacGyver appeared flustered, "Sorry, I...it was kinda automatic. I like nicknaming thi...people. I even nicknamed my hocky stick. It's called Woody. Do you like fishing? My uncle did. I don't. I hate it. A lot." 

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. Definitely something odd going on here. 


	4. Interlude

**Thanks so much everyone for your encouraging reviews.  
  
Sorry this is so short, but it's neccessary... 

Interlude

**

Pete Shanahan sat in a bar in a small town on the outskirts of Colorado Springs nursing a beer. For the thousandth time since his altercation with Sam, he fought the urge to give her a call, to apologize for his abominable behavior. However, his reasons for breaking off that particular relationship were still valid; no matter how much he could wish otherwise. 

He had been planning his revenge for far too long to let something like love stand in the way. He had known going in that he wouldn't be able to have a lasting relationship with Sam Carter, but he'd been unable to help himself. She was as smart as she was pretty. Unlike Penny Parker, though the two women did share the same naive excitement for their respective worlds. The fact that Sam traversed alien planets just added to her charm and mystery. 

There was no use in thinking along those lines, however. He had a purpose, a mission and nothing could interfere. Perhaps, after he'd dealt with MacGyver, he could take a chance on love. Maybe Samantha Carter would even be able to accept him for who he was and what he did. She was, after all, in the military. The only difference between himself and them, was that their assassinations were generally legally sanctioned. 

'Pete' mentally reviewed his plan, making certain it was fool--and MacGyver--proof. Satisfied that everything would go according to his wishes, he threw a five dollar bill onto the table and left the bar, whistling a tune to himself. Oh the simple joys of life: Love, and the knowledge that a major thorn in one's side was about to bite the dust. 

After walking a few blocks, he came to the rundown motel where he had rented a room. He grinned as he unlocked the door and stepped inside to greet his new 'guest'. "Hello, Peter? How are you finding your stay? Not too uncomfortable I hope, since you'll be here a while. I still have a few measures to work out." 

Peter Thornton was tied up on one of the twin beds of the room, a gag placed in his mouth. The Director of Operations and Founder of the Phoenix Foundation was red in the face and quite obviously angry as he tried to mouth invectives through the cloth. 'Pete' got the idea and laughed merrily. 

"Now, now Mister Thornton," 'Pete' admonished lightly, "Such language coming from such an important man." He loped forward and removed the gag. 

"Murdoc!" Thornton growled as soon as the obstacle was gone, "You are a sick and twisted..." his words were cut off as Murdoc injected a sedative. The former DXS agent fell into a deep and dreamless slumber. 

Murdoc smiled evilly. Oh how he loved his job. 


	5. Three

**Again, sorry for the shortness of the last bit. Hopefully this one will make up for it. And to Makura Koneko: MacGyver is Jack. At least, he's the Jack that everyone's known for the past eight years. And that's all I'm sayin'. (big evil grin)  
  
Chapter Three**

Eternity and this week could be considered synonymous, MacGyver thought ruefully as he sat at his desk, thumbing through various reports and memos that were all marked as 'urgent'. Between trying to get to know base personnel without letting on that he already knew them, sneaking into the infirmary and switching his medical charts again, several SG teams returning precipitously after being attacked by Goa'uld forces, and wondering if Teal'c suspected anything Mac was stressed nearly to his limit. 

It was time to decide what was more important: trying to keep the team he'd come to trust and love as a family (maybe more in Carter's case, but as usual his mind shied away from that) from discovering that he had been and still was lying to them, or being on top of his game and trying to keep the planet safe. An easy decision one might think, especially given Mac's background, but he still hesitated. Finally, he decided that if Teal'c wasn't going to say anything, then neither was he, and left it at that. 

That decision made, Mac turned his attention back to more urgent matters. Colonel Reynolds' report of the incursion on PX5-666—a rather unfortunate designation—was almost identical to the other six team's reports except that the Jaffa belonged to different System Lords leading Mac to believe that Ba'al or another enemy had taken control of at least a small portion of the six System Lords involved. 

He mentally reviewed what he knew of the Goa'uld in question. Yu was senile, and yet his Jaffa were extremely loyal. His First Prime wouldn't have stayed with him knowing he wasn't as he tried to appear otherwise. So, a fraction may have been overtaken and impressed. Of the other five, Mac only knew Camulus, and his armies—by his own admission—had been acquired by Ba'al. 

It really was too bad the Tok'ra hadn't been in contact for nearly a year now. As much as MacGyver disliked their methods—and attitudes regarding humans, they generally had very useful information concerning the Goa'uld. 

MacGyver grimaced, tossed the reports aside, and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. It had been a long day ending a long week. With a sigh he glanced at his watch. Still three hours until he could officially leave. There had to be something he could do. Before, when he'd been stuck on something he'd always gone and bothered Danny or Carter in their labs. 

Actually, he thought, that might not be such a bad idea. Where as before he'd had to act the dumb-as-dirt colonel—and then general—now he could actually supply his own theories and suggestions without couching them in simplistic terms that sounded like he had no clue what he was talking about. Grinning, and feeling lighter than he had, he practically skipped down to Carter's lab, ignoring the looks he received from the SF's and base personnel he passed on his way. 

Carter, however, wasn't in her lab. Mac frowned in disappointment and made his way with slightly less enthusiasm to Daniel's, who, to Mac's pleasure, was ensconced in his work and not paying attention in the least to anyone or anything around him. 

MacGyver sauntered over to the desk and peered over the archaeologist's shoulder at the ancient texts. He frowned as he stared at the runes, a sense of recognition filling him. Not just at what they were, but almost as if he could read them. It passed, and he shook it off, deciding it must be the stress getting to him. 

"Looks kinda like Asgard," Mac mentioned off-handedly. 

Daniel jumped and his head bounced off Mac's chin. MacGyver winced and rubbed the spot. "Sorry," Daniel muttered, "You startled me." 

Mac grinned sheepishly and responded, "No, it's my fault. I should have given you some warning I was in the room." 

Daniel nodded, accepting this and then waved his arm towards the texts. "You said it kind of looks like Asgard?" His expression was skeptical. 

Mac tensed, realizing that he'd once again slipped. However, he could easily cover this one, unlike the last. "Yeah, I looked at some of the languages and runes this program has come across over the past few years, this looks a little like Asgard." Mac indicated the texts as well. "And yet…it doesn't." He shrugged lightly. "I can't really explain it." 

"Hm," Daniel murmured, "I've got the same feeling about it. Actually, now that I look at it, I think you're right. It does have some of the same form and structure as Asgard. It could be another dialect. Unfortunately, I can't even translate the Asgard we have come across, much less another language based off it." 

"You can translate Norse runes…" 

Daniel shook his head. "You'd think there'd be a similarity considering that the Asgard have taken on the persona of the Norse gods. Of course, the Ancients spoke a language that is remarkably similar to Latin, but their written language is like nothing I had ever come across before so there's a high probability that this could be Asgard." 

MacGyver nodded thoughtfully. "Or…maybe it's a mixture of both? See," he pointed at an area of text, "This line here has the same structure as the Ancient runes, but it also has a structure reminiscent to one of the other four languages you found." 

Daniel glanced at him in surprise, then grinned ruefully. "You might look like your uncle, MacGyver, but you're a hell of a lot smarter than he is." Then the archaeologist shook his head. "Well, this gives me a lot more to work on than I had before. I never even thought to look for a mixture of languages." And with that, he was back to work and ignoring the rest of the world. 

Mac grinned as he left the man to his devices. There had been so many times in the past that he had wanted to do just as he had done. To say, "Look Danny, the answer's in front of your face. Use it." Well, he had said that once, but it had been sarcastic, antagonistic and stating the obvious. 

Nodding politely to various personnel that walked past, he wandered in an almost aimless direction, not wanting to make it back to his office and the paperwork that inevitably awaited his attention and hoping that something would happen to further stall that most unpleasant chore. His wish was granted a few seconds later. 

The warning klaxons blared to life and Sergeant Davis' voice could be heard over the intercom, "Unauthorized off-world activation. Incoming wormhole." 

MacGyver jogged to the control room, and slightly out-of breath asked for a report. The technician told him what he'd just got through saying and then pointed out, "We're receiving an IDC, sir…" he paused in apparent confusion, "It's the Kelownans, sir." 

MacGyver frowned. "Open the iris." The tech did so, and with a metallic scraping sound the iris opened to show the shimmering event-horizon of the worm-hole. A second later a man stepped out. MacGyver looked questioningly at Davis—even though he already knew who it was. 

"It's Jonas Quinn, sir," Davis answered the unspoken question, "He's one of our allies and was a part of SG-1…" 

"Thank you Sergeant," MacGyver told him, "I read the reports. I know who Jonas Quinn is." He walked from the control room down into the 'gate room in order to greet the man. And to get the shock of the first meeting over with. Honestly, was he going to have to do this with everyone who knew Jack O'Neill? Yes, his own mind supplied sardonically. It really was his own fault though, and if he didn't like it, then maybe he should just quit now. 


	6. Four

**Wow, the responses I've got on this story so far makes me very very happy. Chapter Four**

Sam gave a great yawn as she let herself into the house, flipping the light switch so she didn't trip over anything in the dark. She was both physically and emotionally drained. Trying to figure out what that twice—no thrice—be-damned object did and also keeping herself from staring every time MacGyver walked into same room took its toll. She walked over to the couch, tossing her keys onto the table beside the door as she passed it, and dropped down. 

After what seemed like only minutes, she was startled out of a light snooze by the annoying sound of her doorbell; she really needed to get a new one put in, having it play the _Star Trek_ theme just didn't amuse her as it once did. Grumbling, she walked over to the door and pulled back the curtain to reveal Mark, looking like a lost little puppy that had been kicked around by people. Fighting back a grin, and her guilty conscience, she opened to door to admit him. 

"Sam, I…" 

"Mark, I…" 

They smiled at each other for a second, before Sam waved her brother to go ahead. He hesitated, then continued. 

"I just wanted to apologize for the other day," he said sheepishly, "And for waiting so long to do it. Can you ever forgive me?" 

Sam shook her head, her face showing her own shame, and smiled. "There's nothing to forgive." She shrugged. "I mean, I said some pretty nasty things too, you know. And I didn't mean any of them. I…" 

"Yes you did," Mark interrupted gently, "And you're right. I am a selfish SOB. I don't know, I guess it took you pointing that out to make me see it. Even Karen's tried to tell me without much luck. Guess I'm not much different than Dad, either, huh? Stubborn as an ass." 

Sam grinned, her exhaustion lifting as if a great weight had been raised from her shoulders. She pulled her brother into a big bear hug, then stepped back to look at him. He had gained a little weight since the last time she'd visited, and that brought another question to her mind. 

"I know you didn't come all the way to Colorado Springs just to apologize," she teased, "That would make me selfish and egotistical. Are you, Karen and the kids here on vacation?" 

If that were the case, then she could take some time off to visit with them. SG-1 wasn't slotted for any off-world missions for another two-days—bar any emergencies, of which there could be plenty—since Daniel was still intent upon translating the alien text and her own research simply could not be continued any further without it. 

Unfortunately, that was not to be. "Actually," Mark answered, concern showing in his eyes, "I'm here on business for the Phoenix Foundation." 

Sam frowned. "I thought you worked for a computer networking company in San Diego…" 

Mark let loose a long sigh. "I do. Peter Thornton, the head of Phoenix Foundation is a good friend of mind; he disappeared over a week ago," he explained, "Now, mind you, the records state that he went on vacation to Annapolis. However," he paused and cleared his throat, "Right before he left, his secretary Helen heard him speaking on the phone with one of his best employees, telling him to keep in touch. He didn't leave a phone number where he could be reached, and he didn't take a cell phone with him…" 

"That doesn't mean anything," Sam interrupted quickly, "His man might know how to contact him once he knows where he's gone." 

Mark nodded impatiently. "I thought of that Sam, and when Helen called me, I told her that. Now, if you'd just let me finish?" 

"Sorry," Sam apologized, "Why don't we go sit down?" She indicated the recently vacated sofa. 

"No," Mark shook his head, "I prefer to stand." 

"That bad huh?" 

"Yeah. Okay, where was I?" he glanced around for a second, obviously trying to buy a little more time. Sam had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she wasn't going to like what she was about to hear. 

"You were saying something about why you finally realized something was wrong?" 

"Oh yeah. Anyway, I told Helen not to worry, that Pete was a big boy and could take care of himself. Helen, by the way, is your typical old dragon-lady secretary. She didn't take too kindly to my tone, and told me so in no uncertain words," Mark grinned at the memory before sobering up again, "So, to keep my head on its shoulders, I told her I'd look into the matter, make sure Pete really had gone to Annapolis. 

"The flight records—don't ask how I checked 'em, you probably don't want to know—checked out just fine. However, when I questioned airport employees at both terminals—the one at LAX and at Annapolis—no one had seen or even heard of Peter Thornton. So I checked it out further and found out that while a round-trip ticket had been bought, it hadn't been used. 

"I was at a stump then. I had no idea what could have happened to him. Then, I got a call from Pete Shanahan," he paused again, but Sam just shrugged. They had already apologized and forgiven each other; she wasn't going to hold it against him just because he mentioned the name. "I got a call from him," Mark continued, "and he told me that you broke up with him, saying you couldn't go with him because he was getting in the way of your career. He also told me that he'd be in the Colorado Springs area for a little while longer, just to see if he could change your mind. 

"I shouldn't have believed him, but at that time I was a little angry at Dad for not coming to visit or even calling in nearly a year that I let that overwhelm my better judgment. I did some deep down soul-searching after you hung up on me that day, and realized that I had taken my anger out on you. When I had calmed down sufficiently, I began to wonder how Pete had been able to get out of that much work. He hadn't been with the Denver Police long enough to warrant so much vacation time, and I wondered if maybe he wasn't involved in Thornton's case." 

Mark laughed mirthlessly, "Imagine me, thinking that it was some kind of serial stalker going after guys named 'Pete'. I'm certainly no detective; but I was right about Peter Shanahan being involved—through sheer dumb-luck. When I started going through his records, I found out that Pete Shanahan didn't even exist." 

"What do you mean," Sam demanded, wishing her gut feeling had been wrong this time—she really didn't want to hear this, "Pete didn't even exist?" 

"I'm getting to that," Mark said, clearly annoyed, "I mean that he was a fictional character. So, I took the liberty of taking all the pictures of enemies Thornton ever had and matching them up with Shanahan's face. Only one matched, and it had to be manipulated. Considering the fact that that man is a master of disguise, I realized he had to be the one. He's an assassin working for HIT, an organization that hires out…hit-men. He's had a lot of run-ins with Thornton and that employee I was telling you about and has on more than one occasion shown a psychotic tendency towards revenge." 

"But you don't know that for certain?" Sam questioned, "You're only guessing at this point. Don't you think we should give the guy a chance to answer to these accusations? Even if he did doctor his records and lie to me—which I'm not sure I'll ever be able to forgive—that doesn't make him some evil, psychopathic killer." 

Mark shrugged. "Will you stop interrupting me? Thank you. Now, that employee is MacGyver, and when I found out that he was working here at NORAD, it all came together. Pete Shanahan—aka Murdoc—is probably going to use Pete Thornton as bait in order to lure MacGyver to his death. Yeah, I don't know this for certain, but…" 

Before he could continue, and before Sam could vehemently denounce him as delusional, her cell-phone rang. "Carter," she snapped with a little more force than was probably warranted. There was silence on the other line, then MacGyver spoke hesitantly. 

"Uh, MacGyver here. There's something we need you to look at here, Jonas Quinn asked for you especially." 

Sam calmed herself, but continued to glare at her brother. "Jonas is there?" She asked, "That's great. I'm on my way as soon as I can get out the door." So much for asking about vacation time. 

"Sorry, Mark," she told her brother, "But there's an emergency and I've got to attend to it. When you've got substantial evidence, let me know. Otherwise, just leave me alone." 

"Sammy," Mark called after her, "Will you at least promise not to go anywhere near Shanahan until I get you that proof?" 

She stopped. "Considering he broke up with me, I don't think there'll be a problem with that." She turned her back on him then and marched back out the door. **

xxx-xxx

**

Daniel looked up from his research to find MacGyver once again standing over him. Only this time Teal'c and Jonas Quinn—who kept staring at MacGyver like he had an extra head--accompanied him. MacGyver, for his part, ignored the Kelownan's interest quite well. 

"And you're sure he's not Jack?" Jonas asked, "Because the resemblance is uncanny. I mean, if you hadn't told me he was dead I would never have believed it. Actually I still don't believe it. Are you sure Jack's really dead and this isn't him? Maybe he's a clone." 

This was said super-fast, as though Jonas were afraid he'd be interrupted. Judging by the annoyed expression on MacGyver's face, that was a very likely possibility. It took a super-human effort for Daniel to keep from sniggering. In a way, Jonas was right. Even the annoyance was so much like Jack it was scary. _No, bad Daniel_ he admonished himself, _Jack is dead. Repeat after me. Jack is dead. MacGyver is not Jack. MacGyver is not Jack._

"Colonel Carter witnessed the body in the medical examiner's office," Teal'c stated neutrally, causing Daniel to give him an odd look. The Jaffa's expression remained as stoic as usual, but Daniel wondered if maybe the same thoughts weren't going through his mind. 

"I am not Jack O'Neill," MacGyver enunciated, "Jack was my uncle and he is dead and buried. And no, I'm not a clone that the Asgard cooked up either." 

Daniel grinned at the crestfallen expression on Jonas' face that brightened almost immediately. He knew how the poor alien felt. "So, what can I do for you guys?" 

"You know that text you've been beating yourself up over?" MacGyver asked with a twinkle in his eye. Daniel nodded warily. "Well, Jonas here found an almost identical set, with an identical cylindrical object. The situation they were found in are nearly the same as well." 

"You're kidding? Where did you find them at?" 

"Well," Jonas began, "I didn't really find them, one of our archaeologists did. It was on a remote island of the Kelownan mainland." 

"Do you have any idea what it is, or what it means?" Daniel asked excitedly. 

"Actually, I was kinda hoping you might be able to help with the translation," Jonas responded, "When I saw that it had similarities to both Asgard and Ancient writing I figured you might know where to begin." 

Daniel sighed, deflated. "Unfortunately, no. I'm just as stuck as you are." 

"Perhaps we should contact the Asgard," Teal'c suggested, "They may be able to provide us with an answer." 

"Why don't we wait until Sam gets here," MacGyver said quickly, almost too quickly—Daniel brushed that thought from his mind, "With her, Jonas and myself working on the devices, we might be able to come up with a viable solution." 

"That still doesn't help us translate these runes, MacGyver," Daniel insisted, "I think contacting the Asgard is a good idea. Besides, judging by past experiences, it'll probably take forever for them to respond anyway. Maybe by the time they do, you'll have the devices figured out." 

Before MacGyver could respond, Sam walked in looking like she was ready to destroy a dozen Goa'uld fleets with just her glare. Daniel swallowed, wondering what had upset her, and at the same time not wanting to know at all. He certainly wasn't going to ask, that was for sure. He'd been on the receiving end of her temper once and only once. He hadn't been able to hear for a week. Okay, that was an exaggeration, but Sam p.o.'d was a scary thing indeed. 

MacGyver didn't seem to have the same sense of self-preservation—and Daniel had already known that Jonas didn't, because they both asked at the same time, "What's wrong?" 

Sam's mouth worked for a minute, then she visibly calmed herself and shook her head. "MacGyver, have you ever heard of someone called…Murdoc?" 

Daniel was confused, and judging by Jonas' expression and Teal'c's raised eyebrow, they weren't any clearer. However, the question had the effect of causing MacGyver's face to go completely white and there was a fear in his eyes that Daniel had only seen in the eyes of a Goa'uld host once. A fear he had never seen in Jack O'Neill ever before, further helping his subconscious to keep from confusing the two men. 

"Why? You haven't met him have you? Because if you have, you are very luck to be alive…" 

Sam stared hard at the man, then shrugged. "My brother thinks he may have kidnapped Peter Thornton…" 

"What!?" MacGyver yelled, his face going impossibly whiter. He pulled out his cell-phone and began dialing frantically. 

Sam held out her hands in supplication, "Easy, I said 'he thinks'. There's no proof." 

"Pete?" MacGyver questioned, and Daniel felt a bit of relief when the color returned to the man's face. "Yeah, I was…just checking in like you asked me to is all. Yeah, yeah. It's going great. Uh huh. Yeah…bye." MacGyver hung up the phone, then an odd expression crossed his face. It cleared up almost immediately however, so Daniel didn't question him. 

"Pete's just fine," MacGyver told Sam, "But your brother has to have some reason for suspecting Murdoc of kidnapping him." 

Sam rolled her eyes, amusement and relief warring with each other on her features. "Oh yeah. But now I can tell him he was just grasping at smoke. Thank goodness. So, what exactly did you call me in here for?" 


	7. Five

**Thank you ravenakf for pointing out the technicality...see, this is why I need a beta...someone who can point things out _before_ I post. Also in response to ravenakf--yes, that would be why Mac's not too keen on contacting the Asgard...  
  
Chapter Five**

MacGyver wasn't going to let it go, Sam realized. He kept staring at her, his dark eyes focused and concerned. She gave an exasperated sigh and folded her arms across her chest, not really wanting to show just how delusional her brother could be. And yet, if it would ease the worry in those eyes that were so like the ones she had lost herself in in her dreams, she didn't care what anyone thought of her insane brother. 

"All right," Sam relented and told him everything her brother had told her. 

"And," MacGyver asked, his eyes looking off into the distance, as though he were thinking, "You said this Shanahan character knew all about the Stargate program?" 

Sam's lips tightened and she nodded tightly, feeling defensive for some reason. How dare he judge her? 

"Then...that wasn't Pete I was just talking to," MacGyver said absently, his face going white again. 

"What do you mean, that wasn't Pete you were just talking to," Daniel asked, standing up and placing his hand on MacGyver's shoulder in concern. 

Sam felt an inexplicable annoyance at that. This man was not Jack O'Neill. He hadn't proved himself worthy of their trust and affection. On some level she was horrified at herself for thinking this--it wasn't MacGyver's fault his uncle had up and died--but the rest of her was too angry to care. 

"How the hell could you know that?" Sam hissed, "Especially after you just told us the man was perfectly fine?" 

MacGyver blinked at her, his expression hurt and confused. At that moment he looked so much like Jack it caused a physical ache somewhere in the vicinity of her chest, and she had to take a few short breaths to ease the tightness. "He asked how I was doing at the SGC," MacGyver responded in a subdued voice, "I told Pete I was working for NORAD. Murdoc can disguise his voice--he can even sould like a woman," he further explained when Sam started to open her mouth, "Listen, this guy...he's not sane. And he's used friends of mine before to get to me. I'm asking--no I'm ordering--all of you not to leave the base for any reason whatsoever." 

"Who says we're your friends," Sam retaliated, then wished she had kept her mouth shut. She hadn't meant to say it. Damn Jack O'Neill for dying on her and causing her so much grief and confusion. First she had caused her brother pain, and now MacGyver and neither one of them deserved to have her emotional distress taken out on them. "I'm sorry I've got to go. To my lab," she qualified when MacGyver would have stopped her, "I..sorry." 

She turned and left, leaving them to stare after her. She knew they were probably confused and appalled at her behavior but...no Daniel, at least, probably knew something of what she was going through, if not the whole story. In any case, she needed some time alone. 

**xxx-xxx**

MacGyver watched Sam leave, his guilty conscious grinding painfully into his ribs. It was his own fault she didn't want anything to do with him. He should have just told Steve the entire story. Heaven knew the man had the right security clearance, and even if he hadn't, Mac could have granted it to him. But no, his conscious wouldn't let him continue that charade. And now look where it had landed him--the same river in a different boat. 

A gentle nudge on his shoulder brought him back to the situation at hand with a jolt. He took in the concerned gazes of Teal'c, Daniel and Jonas and sighed. Pete was in danger--that was the immediate problem he needed to deal with, not Carter. She obviously needed time alone--and once again he cursed Murdoc for hurting one of his friends. Only this time, he was more angry because Sam was more than a friend--at least in his own dreams. 

"Like I said," he told them when he realized they were expecting a response, "No one goes off base. That might not stop him for long, but I have a feeling the fact that I'm here is what has set his newest plan into motion." 

Daniel nodded and gripped his shoulder in sympathy. 

"Is there nothing we can do, O'Neill?" Teal'c asked solemnly, "We have faced down numerous Goa'uld and emerged victorious." 

"Actually Teal'c, I was just about to..." Mac stopped and looked at the Jaffa. There had been no change in his expression, but Mac felt flustered nonetheless. "I'm MacGyver," he told him, gently, as though he were an understanding friend. Unfortunately it came out more as panicked and petulant. He should have known Teal'c wouldn't have forgotten that little incident earlier in the week. 

"My apologies," Teal'c apologized, not sounding sorry at all. 

Jonas and Daniel were both looking at him, the former grinning from ear to ear and the latter with a speculative gleam in his eye. Crap. Good thing Carter had left already. Jonas reached over and patted him on the other arm. 

"We know who you are," Jonas said impishly, "You don't have to tell us." 

And suddenly Daniel was grinning. Double crap. Stupid Jaffa and their long memories. Sure, it served them well in holding a grudge--or not so well considering what had happened with Tanith and Teal'c being stuck in the Stargate--but at this moment it was damn inconvenient. MacGyver searched his mind frantically for some way out of this, some way to keep from having to explain everything. If the NID--or heaven forbid, Kinsey--were to get their hands on that information, everything they had worked so hard on for the past eight years. 

"We shall speak of this later...MacGyver," Teal'c intoned, "For now we must plan upon what we shall do to rescue your friend Peter Thornton." 

"Yeah," Daniel agreed, "Sam said something about him remaining here in Colorado Springs. Maybe that was just his excuse to keep Mark from inquiring into his reasons for being here. If he's as diabolical as you make him out to be, he's bound to know Mark is friends with Thornton." 

Jonas just kept grinning. 

MacGyver felt that strange feeling he always got when his team's thoughts were in accord with his own. Oh--judging by the look Daniel was giving him--he was going to have to explain at some point--and make it sound damn convincing too. But for now, he was safe while they worked together yet again to avert an emergency. 

"We should probably have Sam in on this too," Jonas said suddenly, "I mean, the fact that he's her ex-boyfriend has to mean something. Especially if you're right about your presence being the catalyst for this plan of Murdoc's." 

MacGyver nodded slowly, and suddenly dreaded the moment when he'd have to tell all. Daniel, Jonas and Teal'c he could handle, but his confused emotions concerning Colonel Samantha Carter were going to make it difficult for him. With the way his luck was running lately, she'd probably hate him forever. No wait, what was he thinking? This would give him some time to come up with a reasonable excuse. They might think he was O'Neill, but they had no proof. They didn't actually know. 

Besides, not just the SGC would be at stake if this leaked out--Steve could possibly be killed--or worse. Damnit. Why did Murdoc choose now to make his presence known? 


	8. Interlude the Second

**Interlude the Second**

Murdoc whistled a sprightly tune as he gently oiled the forty-five automatic handgun. It wasn't anything special-he'd picked it up in a sporting goods store the other day-but it was a tool that would be used in his greatest work of all, and as such deserved special treatment. And there. That ought to do it. He laid the well-oiled instrument of death aside and turned to contemplate his companion. 

Poor Peter Thornton. He was still out of it from the sedative, and if he didn't wake up soon he'd miss the spectacular event Murdoc had planned-as well as his own stunning demise. Oh well, such are the vagaries of life, and the assassin wasn't especially worried about that fact. As long as MacGyver died, nothing else mattered. 

Murdoc chuckled to himself and went to the window of the motel. That idiot, Mark, had done his job-if unknowingly-well. MacGyver would soon be by, and the ultimate death trap would be set. He had his cameras all ready-multiple brands and types in order to capture the moment as accurately and in as many angles as he could muster. 

However, his target was not here yet, so he'd just have to settle back and find something to occupy his mind until the man arrived-sometimes it took MacGyver a while to catch on to things, depending upon the clues set. Samantha Carter seemed a delectable topic of thought, so he'd think about her a bit. 

She might not like him much after this, but one could always hope. Perhaps he could stage something that made MacGyver look like a mass murder and he, Murdoc, was only doing his job. Perhaps. Or perhaps he could just forget about the future for a moment and remember the good times they'd had together. Certainly she had only started out as a brief distraction while he tried to figure out what to do about MacGyver-and the fact that he and his uncle looked a lot alike-but that had blossomed into so much more. 

A rustling noise outside caught his attention and he frowned. He had been expecting MacGyver, but not this quickly. Rising to his feet, he darted to the window and peered out. His frown deepened when he didn't see anyone. This could be something entirely unrelated to his plot, and he did not like that-at all. In fact, he hated unknown variables being thrown into the works and if it were just some young couple sneaking out of school, he would make sure they wished they had never been born before he did away with them. 

Running a hand through his hair and a glance at the mirror made sure he still looked like Pete Shanahan. He nodded, grabbed the .45 and tucked it into his waistband beneath his shirt, and carefully opened the door. He made as if to walk around the side of the hotel, and smiled grimly when he heard the rustling noise again. He turned around quickly, pulling the gun out simultaneously and pointed it at the person standing in the bushes beneath the bathroom window, only to blink in astonishment. 

"Sam?" 

"Pete," the blond murmured nervously, "I uh…was just trying to…uh…" 

Murdoc smiled sadly. He should have known Mark would have gone to his sister-no matter the bad blood he'd planted; should have known that love could and would stand in the way of logic and reason. No wait; strike that. He had known that, but he'd chosen to ignore it. Now…well now he'd have to kill the woman he loved. But not until he got MacGyver. Until then, he'd just have to keep her put up somewhere. 

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Murdoc said softly, "but…I'm afraid this is the end of the line for you. Such a pity." 


	9. Six

**A/N: Sorry this has taken so long to come out, but as you know, sometimes Real Life likes to butt in. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you very much for the reviews. br>  
Chapter Six**

MacGyver crouched behind Daniel's car and watched the room Carter had been taken into. It was all part of the plan the five of them had come up with earlier in the office, but Mac still couldn't help but worry about his former second in command. Murdoc was insane, and there was no telling what the man might do. All Mac could do, though, was wait for the signal. 

He turned to look at Daniel who was concentrating just as hard as Mac had been. As if feeling the gaze, the archaeologist glanced up at Mac, his eyes questioning. MacGyver just shook his head. Any minute now, Teal'c would report in that he and Jonas were in place. And then, Murdoc would finally have what was coming to him. 

As expected, the radio crackled to life and Teal'c reported his and Jonas' readiness. MacGyver acknowledged it and then slowly moved out from behind the car, still in a crouch, motioning for Daniel to follow closely. They half-walked, half-crawled towards the window of the room and settled in the bushes. MacGyver pressed the button on his radio five times-the signal for Teal'c and Jonas to make their move. 

Several seconds later, the Jaffa and the Kelownan walked up to the motel room. They were both wearing chicken suits and carrying boxes of fried chicken. Teal'c looked decidedly uncomfortable, but Jonas appeared to be enjoying himself, and MacGyver couldn't help but feel amused, in spite of the situation. Some things never changed. 

He crouched lower as Jonas knocked on the door, and motioned for Daniel to do the same-no sense in taking chances. The door slowly opened, and MacGyver gritted his teeth as his worst enemy-at least on Earth-poked his head out. There was nothing but silence in the room, and he urged Murdoc to take the bait and step outside just long enough for Daniel and he to scramble inside. 

"Delivery for a Pete Shanahan," Jonas intoned nasally. 

"I haven't ordered anything," Murdoc said, his voice accented differently than MacGyver was used to, "Please leave, or I'll call the cops." 

"If you have not ordered from Chickie's Fried Chicken, then we must have your signature denoting such," Teal'c immediately put in, "Or we shall be in great trouble with our employer." 

"Yeah," Jonas whined, "Cause we got a call from here saying…" 

"Maybe you just have the wrong room number?" Murdoc interrupted, "In any case, I…" 

"We must have documentation," Teal'c insisted, "So that our employer will know that we did not simply lie about the transaction." 

"Oh very well," Murdoc acquiesced and stepped outside. 

MacGyver nodded to Daniel, and the other man quickly climbed through the window. MacGyver followed, and then ducked underneath the closest bed. Daniel had already slipped into the bathroom. They were going to wait until Murdoc entered and then Mac was going to contact Frere via the crystal transmitter. The occupants of the room would then be transported onto an Asgard vessel, and Murdoc would be taken into custody by the six SF's waiting aboard. 

After realizing that he was going to have to tell his team everything, he had decided that contacting the Asgard wouldn't hurt. To his great surprise, they had answered quickly enough, and had actually been eager to help when they had found out what was going on. He had briefly wondered where Thor was, but the little aliens refused to tell him anything and he was too grateful for their help to push them into not providing it. 

The plan worked like clock-work. As soon as Murdoc shut the door behind him, Mac tapped the crystal and felt the familiar disorientation that always came with Asgard transportation devices. The underside of the bed faded around him, and the interior of Frere's ship came into view. He jumped to his feet, and checked that Carter and Pete (both of whom were unconscious) were okay, then turned to grin at the murderous glare on Murdoc's face. 

The psychopathic killer was being restrained by Asgard devices, so he very probably wouldn't be able to escape any time soon. Mac felt relief wash over him. This was the first time he'd ever faced his nemesis without a battle, and without the man supposedly dying in some manner, only to miraculously come back to life and to make Mac's life miserable. 

"Take him away," MacGyver ordered the SF's, who instantly complied. The man would be held in a high security cell within Cheyenne Mountain, and would be guarded by men who had been trained to watch the equally devious Goa'uld prisoners. 

"So," Daniel said, once that was taken care of, "I believe you owe us an explanation. _Jack_." 

MacGyver winced and then shook his head. "Wait til Carter wakes up. She deserves to hear this. And we need to get Pete out of here before he wakes up." 

"There is no need, O'Neill," a familiar voice broke in. 

MacGyver turned to stare at his old friend, Pete, with shock. "Pete?" 

The portly man sighed and shook his head. "Yeah, but…" He began to shimmer, and then there was a bright flash of light. When it had faded, in Peter Thornton's place stood a tiny grey alien. 

"Thor?" 

The question was asked by three different voices. MacGyver glanced at Daniel and Sam (who had woken at the same time as Thornton) and smiled wryly before returning his attention to the alien. 

"I am sorry for the deception," Thor began, looking earnestly at MacGyver (at least he thought it was earnestly-it was hard to tell with Asgard expressions), "But it was necessary for your protection." 

"My protection?" MacGyver asked, "From what?" 

"I cannot say. It should suffice that you must, at all costs be protected, MacGyver." 

Before any of them could protest, there was a flash of light, and they were all standing in his office at the SGC. MacGyver gave discontented grunt and then sighed. He really had no right to be angry at Pete. After all, he hadn't been exactly honest himself. Although, the man (alien?) could have at least told him he knew who he was. 

"Right," MacGyver said after looking at the expectant faces of his team (though he didn't quite meet Carter's gaze), "Explanation time." 

"I'll start at the beginning. Several years ago, I discovered a chemical that could age the body without negative side-effects. I played around with it a bit, and found that I looked exactly like my uncle (with a little make-up applied for scars). Jack was rather taken with the idea, since he and a fellow officer were about to embark on a mission in which no one could know they were gone. Steve had already faked his own death a few years back because of an incident with some people-I don't know the whole story and probably never will-so he was okay. 

"Jack however," MacGyver paused and wet his lips, his mouth dry from talking so much, "Jack had a family. He couldn't just…die. So, they had me take his place for the month they would be gone. The plan went off without a hitch, and I never heard from them again. Until nine years ago. They were called again. Jack was already divorced at the time, and you all know about Charlie, but it would appear too convenient if he suddenly 'died'. 

"So, I was the obvious choice. Before he left, he told me all about the Stargate. 'Just in case', he told me. They didn't know how long they'd be gone this time." 

MacGyver stopped here and looked away from the people he had grown to know and admire over the past eight years. He had expected them to interrupt with questions, or at least disbelief, but either they were waiting until he was finished or they just didn't have any. 

"So," MacGyver continued, "For a year, I lived in my uncle's house and did things my uncle always did. I didn't think I'd ever have to worry about the Stargate Program, and I was sure Jack would be returning soon. It had, after all, been a year. Then, Samuels came and got me. At first, I was going to tell Hammond everything, but I knew that there were probably people who didn't need to know listening. So I kept quiet, waiting for a moment when I could get him alone. Then, I found out he was going to send a nuke to Abydos, and…the rest is history. I just couldn't let innocent people die out of ignorance. 

"I hate guns. I have never advocated their use, but as we began fighting the Goa'uld, I couldn't just stop being Jack. For eight years I've been lying to you, and I didn't even feel guilty. Because I was doing something for my planet other than making sure all the trees didn't get cut down or stopping pollution. I began to think Jack would never return, and even if he did, I doubted he would try to take over when so much had occurred. People were liable to notice the differences between us right away. 

"Then, a few months ago, Steve came back and told me the one thing I didn't want to hear. Jack had died, and it needed to be official. Since it would be a lot easier to fake his death than my own, we set up the accident…and you all know the rest. 

"I guess," he took a deep breath, "I guess it was rather selfish of me to want to come back here when Hayes offered me the job, but I couldn't help it. So…that's it. That's the story. I'm sorry for lying to you all…especially after everything we've been through but…I'm not sorry I did this." 

And with that, he turned and walked from the office, letting his story sink in. If they still hated him afterwards, well…he'd deal with that when he came to it. For now, he just had to hope that they could find their way to trusting him again. **

The End

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Well, that's the last of it. I may do a sequel, but I'm not sure. I left it open like that, just in case. Hope you liked it, and once again thanks for all the reviews. 


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